What Happened After
by HoldontomySoul
Summary: I wrote these for an assignment in my 10th grade English class. Our teacher asked us to write about what happened to three different characters after they were rescued off the island. I wrote about Jack, Ralph, and Roger. Hope you enjoy and, as always,R
1. Jack

Alright, so I have not written in a VERY long time... and I have never posted anything on here except for harry potter fanfiction. But I was just going through some old stuff of mine and found these three short things. I wrote them for a tenth grade English assignment. We had just read Lord of the Flies and our teacher asked us to write three short SHORT stories telling what happened to three different characters after they were all rescued off of the island. So here we go.

_Scritch. Scratch. Scritch._

Jack sat in a dark corner, his knees drwn up to his chest, whispering furiously.

"Kill the pig, cut her throat, spill her blood! Kill the pig, cut her throat, spill her blood!" He repeated this chant to himself over and over again.

_Scritch. Scratch. Scritch._

"I am chief, roger! I didn't give the order for you to drop that boulder!" He could still see it all in his head. The rumble, the roar, the blood...

"Kill the pig, cut His throat, spill His blood!"

_Scritch. Scratch. Scritch._

He remembered the urgent need to hunt, to kill. It overwhelmed him so that he saw a flitting shadow and pounced upon it, only to land against a cushioned wall.

"I was choosing a place," Jack said, standing up and looking around ashamedly. He had to tell them, they all had to know that he was not afraid.

"I was going to kill the pig. Just couldn't decide where...kill the pig, cut her throat, spill her blood...," his voice trailed away as he scrambled back to his dark corner.

"I am chief. I _am_ chief. I am _chief_. _I_ am chief. Kill the pig, cut her throat, spill her blood..."

And he began _Scritch. Scratch. Scritching _on the door of the hospital room again.


	2. Ralph

This next one is about Ralph.

Ralph stood in front of a grand Victorian home, debating with himself about whether or not he should ring the doorbell. In his hand, he held a pair of shattered eyeglasses. He looked at him and, almost as though Piggy were there telling him himself, Ralph knew that this was the right thing to do. He rang the bell. The door was opened by a formidable looking woman of about fifty-five. She looked at him curiously.

"Hello. My name is Ralph," He stammered out. He paused, and then recklessly plunged on, "I knew Pig-I mean-," he caught himself quickly, "I knew James." For that had been Piggy's real name, Ralph had discovered; James Walker. It suited him. "James" had a sort of air of responsibility, of maturity. The woman's eyes softened in comprehension.

"Of course. Please come inside," she said. She used the same tonal inflections in her voice as Piggy had, Ralph noticed. She could only be his aunt.

"Perhaps you can tell me what happened to my nephew." She said as they seated themselves in a grand front room.

Of course I can." Ralph took a deep breath, and started from the beginning. He told the woman all about the crash, Piggy's wise ideas, Jack and Roger, and finally, the tragic event that had caused the death of his friend. After he finished, Ralph felt that it was time to leave, but before he did, he handed the broken spectacles to piggy's aunt.

"Here. James would have wanted you to have these." As the woman across from him looked up, Ralph saw that she was crying.

"Thank you," she said, a tear rolling silently down her face, "Thank you for coming here and telling me the truth about what happened to James. And thank you, even more so, for being his friend."

Ralph stepped out onto the porch of Piggy's old home and stood there, blinking in the bright sunlight. He stood, and then, for the first time since those few happy days on the island with Piggy and Simon, Ralph smiled.


	3. Roger

The last one is about Roger.

Roger sat in court. He looked around without interest. He knew why he was here, and yet, he didn't really care. He was here because he killed someone. _Big deal,_ he thought savagely._ They'd have killed the rich brat too, thinking he's so much better than the rest of us..._ The jury was now deciding his fate. If he was found guilty, he would be put into a juvenile detention center until he turned eighteen, at which time, he would be transferred to a prison for another ten years. Roger wasn't worried, though.

The jury wouldn't find him guilty. They couldn't.

The trial had gone smoothly, he thought. He didn't know much about law, but he thought that his case had been well defended. Even so, the jury wouldn't convict him anyways. He was fourteen, much too young to be locked up.

The jury filed back in. The bailiff entered the judge's chambers, and then the familiar call of, "All rise!" rang out. The judge strode to his seat, his black robes billowing behind him, and his white wig perched atop his head. When he said, they all sat. The whole room seemed to be holding its breath.

"Mister foreman, has the jury reached a verdict?" roger found that question to be almost laughable. The juror was clearly holding the verdict paper in his hands.

"We have, your honor."

"Will the bailiff please bring me the verdict?" The man in question obeyed the order.  
The judge unfolded the page and looked at Roger's fate. Roger tried to read the man's face, but it was completely impassive. Roger still wasn't worried. _I'm going to buy myself a gigantic ice cream after this,_ he thought, smirking. The bailiff now handed the verdict back to the foreman. The judge then said in a loud, ringing voice,

"Will the jury please rise and face the defendant." It wasn't a question, it was an order. Then he looked over at Roger and his barrister.

"The defendant will rise and face the jury." Roger did so, however reluctantly. His mother said behind him, a handkerchief clutched to her face, eyes shining with unshed tears.

"Will the jury please read the verdict." Another order.

"On the charge of murder in the second degree, we, the jury find the defendant, Roger Leonard Mills," he paused for a moment, then,

"guilty."


End file.
